Self Preservation
by Lossenrhos
Summary: After the fall of Voldemort a group of Death Eater's meet in a bar, and in their desperation form a daring plan. But is there a traitor among them? One shot.


A/N: I owe a big debt of gratitude to Solika and Rosie for beta-ing this for me and helping it to make sense. Thank you!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. And really, I'm quite glad about that. Having Bella on loan was scary enough.

Self Preservation

"He can't be gone," Rodolphus Lestrange said for about the seventh time, his hand clenched around his mug of mead. "He just can't be."

"You've been saying that for months!" Bella said impatiently.

Rodolphus just shook his head, staring at her blankly. "It's not right. We were winning. We were gaining everywhere."

"Oh, stop whining." She took another sip of her Firewhiskey, her face hardening. "It isn't over yet."

I glanced around the dingy tavern. A couple of warlocks and a hag slumped at a table, clearly in the latter stages of inebriation. The barman was in the backrooms. We would not be overheard.

"You really think the Dark Lord will come back?" I asked in an undertone.

Bella tossed her head, her eyes flashing. "Of course."

A lesser man would have quailed under the glance she shot me. I merely looked back at her blandly.

"You simpleton," she sneered. "Don't you see? Our movement is destiny - bound. It is sure to succeed. We will scourge the earth of the filth polluting it: Mudbloods and traitors and half - breeds. The Dark Lord will rule over an empire which wizards will inhabit as Kings..."

Bella was always a good speaker. Looking at her rapt face and her eyes starry with vision, I almost believed her.

"Then we must act."

I looked around in surprise as the boy spoke for the first time, leaning forward eagerly. He was young for a Death Eater, I thought. He could barely have been out of Hogwarts. The fervour of his initiation still burned in his eyes.

"Think- if we are the ones to bring him back from the grave- to find him and aid him- we five together- think how our Lord would honour us."

I exchanged an amused glance with Rabastan. The young ones, the absolute believers were always so amusing. Bella however seemed quite caught up in the idea.

"Honour indeed," she breathed.

Rabastan watched them both, a mixture of amusement and interest in his eyes.

"Would it work?" he asked. I could tell he was trying to keep the scepticism out of his voice. "I mean, we don't even know where he is- if he is," he said, a hint of apology in his voice as Bella turned a steely eye on him.

"He's right," Rodolphus said dolefully, looking down into his glass. "There's nothing we can do."

Bella shook her head impatiently. "Don't be ridiculous. There has to be a way."

"I know a way," the boy said quietly. We all turned to look at him.

"My father," the boy's lip curled, "works for the Ministry. From what I hear, they think the Dark Lord is alive, in hiding abroad."

"Where?" Bella whispered.

"I don't know." The boy lowered his gaze. "My father wouldn't tell me," he pouted, am expression that extenuated the childish lines of his face, making him look like a child denied a chocolate frog.

"But he knows," Bella persisted.

The boy shrugged. "Perhaps. But I don't think we'll get it out of him."

"We could try," said Bella, fingering her wand lovingly. "You'd be surprised how the Cruciatus Curse loosens a man's tongue."

Perhaps I imagined it, but I thought I saw a flicker of alarm in the boy's eyes.

"There is someone else who knows," he said.

"Who?"

The boy took a deep breath. "Frank Longbottom, the Auror."

Rabastan looked at him curiously. "Didn't he use to be a friend of yours?"

The boy looked down, his straw coloured hair flopping over his eyes, hiding their expression. "My father wished us to be intimates. The Longbottoms are an influential family."

"Blood traitors," Bella spat.

"He was much older than me. He looked out for me at Hogwarts, that's all. I expect it was only because his mummy told him to," he sneered. "I owe him nothing."

"But you're sure he'll know?" Bella asked impatiently.

"If anyone does, he will. Father said he was Head of the team looking for the Dark Lord."

"Right," said Bella, standing up and pulling on her coat. We looked at her blankly.

"Well- what are we waiting for?" she snapped.

"Now?" asked the boy uncertainly.

"Why not?" said Bella coolly, poking Rodolphus in the back of the head. Reluctantly, he lumbered into action.

"Wait a minute," Rabastan said. "So many things could wrong... if we're caught."

"We won't be," Bella said coldly. "As long as we manage to capture Longbottom without difficulty there are plenty of places we can use for our _negotiations. _I assure you we will not be disturbed."

Rabastan and I exchanged an unconvinced glance.

"But if we _are_." he said "These aren't just a couple of obscure Mudbloods. The Longbottoms are important people from rich families. They are held in high esteem. If we are found out, the penalties will be heavy."

"Then stay. I will be sure to tell the Dark Lord of the extent of your loyalty, Rabastan, when he is re-instated, and see you rewarded accordingly."

Rabastan went pale, his eyes on the floor. I could tell he was thinking fast.

"Well?"

He nodded. "I'll come."

Bella gave him a short nod and strode out of the pub, Barty Crouch's son at her heels. Rodolphus took a last gulp of beer and went after them. Rabastan followed more reluctantly. At the door he turned, looking back at me.

"Coming, Lucius?"

I saw myself as Voldemort's right hand man, a prince among wizards, basking in his eternal gratitude. I saw myself shivering, huddled up in a pile of rags, in Azkaban. And I thought critically of the boy's pale face, his eager stuttering speech. New recruits might be amusing, even useful, if you were in need of cannon fodder, but putting one's life in the hand of an eighteen- year- old boy? No, I thought regretfully. There really was only one thing to be done.

When Rabastan had left, I hurried to the fire of one of the back- parlours and threw a hand full of Floo Powder into the grate. As the flames hissed and crackled around my ears, a room came gradually into focus. A man with grizzled grey hair and a harsh, lean countenance bent over a pile of papers.

"Good evening, Scrimgeour."

The man looked at me coldly. "Can I help you?"

"I doubt it. In fact, I was rather imagining that _I_ could help you."

His expression sharpened; he looked at me keenly. "Oh."

"A terrible business. Such a prestigious family in the hands of the Dark Lord's most formidable servants- but I imagine you know this?"

"What? No. What's going on? Tell me."

The man had got up from the desk and was bending down beside the fire. His yellow eyes were bright with interest. Too bright. Someone's angling for a promotion, I thought.

"Well, if the Ministry is truly not informed, I suppose it is my duty... You know how eager I am to perform a public duty."

"Mr. Malfoy, if it is true that lives are in danger, it is crucial that you tell me immediately what you know."

"Indeed it is, Scrimgeour, but," I leaned a little closer towards him, "you of all people must understand that in helping others, one must first be certain of securing one's own interests."

For the first time, Scrimgeour smiled. "Of course," he said sardonically. "And how may I assist you in that?"

"Our meeting is strictly confidential- you received no tip-off, most certainly not from me. Any charges made against myself and my wife will be unconditionally dropped, now and in the future. Indisputable evidence will come to light: we were victims of the Imperius Curse. And when you are promoted, as after your heroic action in saving the lives of the well- loved Auror and his family you most certainly will be, you will be certain to speak well of me in the most to those above you. I expect an invitation to the next Annual Ministry Ball. You understand?" I finished severely.

The man's yellow eyes gleamed. "I think that can be arranged. Now, for your side of the bargain. I hope that this information will be worth it."

"Oh, it is."

I leaned forward settling myself I little more comfortably on the hearthrug. As I spoke I saw my future as in a blink of an eye- I would be eminent, respected, influential... Perhaps, after all, I should lead no wave of reform sweeping our world, but I would survive, with the Malfoy estate intact. Poor Bella, for all her fine sentiments, understood so little: a Malfoy's first duty is always to himself.


End file.
